Tarnished
by ErieDragon
Summary: Maura was alone. One of the few bearing knowledge of the Z Fighters' existence and the REAL destruction of Cell, she is pulled unfairly into the next fight. The teen-loner is forced to either become one of them, or die.


Finals were a week away. She was in another fight with Anthony. Her "Señor Frog's" puff slippers were so frayed, they pulled dog hair out of the carpet. Who needs a vacuum cleaner when you have cheap Mexican shoes?

Maura wandered down the dimly lit hall, flicking switch after switch as she proceeded. The lamps gradually came on, shedding a soft yellow over the white carpet and bland, eggshell walls. The plaster was practically dripping off the framework, making the short teen shiver when a slight breeze wafted through the corridor.

Eventually, she gave up on continually digging her toes into the slippers in an effort to keep them on. Maura tossed them back into her room and proceeded to walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

The poster tacked onto her wall fluttered in the light wind her open window allowed. It was a photograph; black and white, but a photograph nevertheless. It showed a view of the desert, with the remains of a stone stadium scattered in all directions. In the center stood a bright, yellow flame, facing something or someone off-screen. Floating above was a group of famous, unnamed heroes: a green, big-eared alien wearing a fancy white cape, a short, bald human, a three-eyed man, a stocky, spike-haired fiend, and a tall, blonde chap wearing a tattered, orange outfit. Two of them were attending to a fallen ally, while the man with gravity-defying black hair glared with frustrated intensity at the golden flame below. 

The photograph had been taking by her father, before he died. He was killed that day, by the unknown someone off-screen. That same someone had supposedly been destroyed by Mr. Satan... What a joke.

Maura made her way through the kitchen, the immense backpack weighing heavily on her left shoulder. Damn history teacher and his five-hundred-pound books.

She kept her head down as she walked, her hood hanging over flat, dark-brown locks of hair. Her eyes were like smeared coals, watching the ground as if it was the most interesting thing around. Luckily, it had stopped raining the night before, but everything was soaked through and another scattered shower was imminent. Maura didn't want to run the risk.

Anthony probably wouldn't be at school today, probably guilt-tripping his mom into believing he was sick as a dog. A dog he was, for sure. Oh well, it was the best she could do in her loser-trap of a school. No matter how hot he was, her boy-toy was more argumentative and rude than she ever thought possible. 

Those real guardians of the Earth... She criticized Hercule's immense name franchise whenever she could. The teen knew who had really saved her, saved her people, because of the small, insignificant poster on her wall. The camera it had been taken with was now a relic, sitting in a glass box on Maura's desk. Someone had found it and given it to her to help console her father's death. Despite popular belief, she couldn't care less.

A few small, broken-down cars drove by, that was all. A quiet morning, even when she was splattered by a tire kicking up muddy backwater. It didn't really matter.

Maura made her way to her destination, attracting as little attention as possible. She eventually reached the edges of "ghetto-town," and proceeded to take off her suffocating hood and walk with ease towards school.

She had to walk at least four miles, but she didn't mind. The sun was just peeking over a cloud moistened with rain, the scent of wet asphalt rising to her sensitive nose. 

Maura's classes were never very exciting, to say the least. She dreaded the horrific monotone of her mentors' pointless lectures and the infuriating chit-chat of hushed voices behind her. She would probably be getting A's if she didn't get suspended every other week and did something to participate other than correcting her brainless teachers.

She was sitting in the very back of English class, of course, when the monocle-bearing blonde bitch made an announcement.

"We have a new student today," she droned, opening the door. "Everyone, say hello to Gohan."


End file.
